Rebirth
by rebelxxwaltz
Summary: They're breathing through the pain in their hearts, as the rebirth carries them home. Two part collaboration between TheGodmother2 and rebelxxwaltz. Post S4, some spoilers. Walt/Vic.
1. Chapter 1

Hey all! This weekend brought another collaboration between myself and TheGodmother2. Got to love that hiatus of hers, eh? ;D

We chose a prompt from a list supplied by some unruly walnuts, and zeroed in on a rather unexpected but highly entertaining request. The prompt for this story was: Walt and Vic undercover at a Lamaze class.

Unlike our previous collaboration, this one functions as a continuous story with the first half written by GM2 and the second half written by myself, rebelxxwaltz. It was fun to play together, and hopefully the tone and quality of the story will be consistent throughout. Needless to say, we're dying to hear what everybody thinks!

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 _Rebirth  
_ _Part I by TheGodmother2_

"You have got to be shitting me?"

Walt stands; hands perched on his hips, deciding if he will take a hardline and excise his authority.

Ferg looks at Vic completely perplexed. He gently presses his pencil into the wood surface of his desk.

"Ah, Walt." He mutters, "I don't think anyone will be convinced."

Vic folds her arms and shakes her head, her face twisted reflecting her inner conflict. She finds it increasingly difficult to remain loyal to him. Her last bastion of professional integrity surfaces and she asks all of the vital questions; who, what, where, why and how.

Ferg freezes in disbelief but the past year has taught him to remain silent.

"I'm leaving now." She says without seeking permission. "Ferg, I'll pick you up at 1600 and we can head down to Cheyenne tonight and get a head start."

He just nods his head and before leaving reminds Walt that jury selection starts Monday for the Orchard Gardens burglary trial. The ride to Cheyenne is pleasant enough and actually enjoyable as the time passes.

"Really, Vic." He says his eyes alive from laughing, "Like anyone will actually believe we are married? Come on."

"What? You don't think so? Don't sell yourself short, Ferg." She says with a lightness that is attractive.

"I'm not. I'm just realistic." He smiles, his dimples deep in his cheeks, his fingers gripping the handle above his window.

The miles continue and Ferg turns toward her, "Since we are going undercover the cover story just has to be believable, right?"

She nods her head and plops another salted pretzel chip in her mouth.

"So why don't I just pretend to be your brother? Let's say your husband is out of town. I mean, Vic, that should be easy to play. Sean was out of town for like most of your marriage."

As soon as he says it he regrets it.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Vic. I didn't mean to…."

She cuts him off.

"It's ok, Ferg, seriously."

He puts his head down losing all of the joy they have shared the past hour in the truck. .

"You wanna talk about stuff?" She asks taking a swig of her diet Coke.

His eyes grow large, surprised at her offer, and he shrugs his shoulders.

"Look Ferg, everything is fucked up, okay. I know it. You know it and Walt sure as fuck knows it." She takes another swig. "I know I got a long way to go to figure out shit and make things right again but I started seeing a therapist a few months ago and I swear, Ferg, it's the only reason I'm still sane."

"You started seeing a therapist?" His voice elevated in disbelief.

"Yeah. If you haven't noticed we never ever talk about all the heinous shit that happens. I just reached the tipping point you know."

"How did you find someone?"

"Employee assistance. You know the county actually has a functioning website." She laughs and he laughs too.

"You should check it out."

The worry begins to lift from his brow as the landscape passes them by. The next morning they meet with ICE investigators Lewis and Stone.

"Thanks for helping us out Deputies. Turns out your Sheriff and our boss are old buddies and we sure could use your help." Lewis explains.

"You're welcome. I hope your guys won't be too bored in Absaroka the next few days." Ferg pipes up taking in the sophisticated office surroundings.

"I'm sure they'll manage. I'll take you down to the studio in about an hour, Vic, and our make-up and prosthetics team will get to work."

"Are birther babies really that big of a problem here in Wyoming?"

"Yeah, all over the country really and we have been hitting them hard, so hard in fact that all of our agents are burned along with local law enforcement and it's an election year."

"You mean all of the female agents." She questions.

"Well yeah." Stone answers apologetically.

On the walk to the basement Stone shyly asks, "Deputy Ferguson, do you think he can pull off playing your husband?"

Vic laughs, "He didn't think so. We changed it up a bit. He's my brother filling in for my absentee husband."

Stone smiles, "Now that is believable."

Vic smiles and Stone goes out on a limb, "Are you married, Vic?"

"Divorced and not interested."

He throws his palms in the air in a playful gesture.

"Hey, doesn't hurt to ask."

He flashes a brilliant smile and Vic thinks she should be attracted to him. He's everything she would want and for a brief moment she wonders what is wrong with her. She's been working on that, on all of it; self-doubt, substituting casual sex for dealing with the real issues.

Stone does the introductions and promises to come back before lunch. The artists take measurements and guarantee everything will be ready by the end of business. Vic can wear the pregnancy suit all weekend to grow accustomed to the movement before going undercover Monday morning with Ferg.

She curses a lot over the weekend and manages to appear natural. They practice their cover story and when they arrive at the Real Birthing Center for the group Lamaze session on Monday they look like any other pair there to learn breathing techniques.

"We only have to fake them out for three days, Vic." Ferg looks confident, "I think we can do this."

Vic nods and smiles remembering to put her hand on her artificial tummy.

They make it through the first day, Ferg filling in as her support person, and then his phone rings.

"Hey, Ruby." He sounds cheerful but when he hangs up he's reticent.

"Vic, there's been a change of plans." He looks straight ahead daring himself to face her. "They empaneled a jury today on that burglary case and I have to get back and testify first thing in the morning."

She waits for him to fill in the rest of the story.

"Vic, uhm, they don't want to delay the trial or stop this operation so Walt is on his way down. He's going to fill in for me."

She looks at him but she doesn't say anything as she tries to hide the dread on her face.

"Vic, I'm sorry for all of this."

"It's not your fault Ferg." She looks out of the window and bites her lip to keep from crying. She mumbles, "You're a pretty good fake brother."

She calls Ruby and fills her in on the cover story. Walt can find the key under the door mat. The message is loud and clear and obviously received because he arrives late that night and takes his place on the overstuffed couch.

The next morning he gasps when he sees her, belly protruding, wearing a black flower print dress, and his shock leaves the safety wall wide open, "You look so beautiful." His lips shut tight the moment he speaks and he knows she has completely shut him out.

She ignores him, makes her coffee, flips through her iPhone and 45 minutes before their appointment she heads toward the front door and tells him she will meet him outside. She gives him turn-by-turn directions and doesn't tease him about not having a phone or GPS.

The different environment does nothing to alleviate their pain or change the silent gulf between them. The class begins and his long legs encapsulate her and enclose her body and he thinks how he doesn't have to sell this. Any of it. His hands fall to her back and his warmth soaks through to her skin as they follow directions surrounded by mothers and fathers that don't quite understand English but understand movement and body language. She's breathing through the pain she feels in her heart and when his chin moves past her shoulder and his hands squeeze her forearms she can hear him whisper her name in her ear.

His long thick fingers slide down to her wrists and slowly back up her arms and the lump in her throat will not allow her to speak. She follows the instructions and places her palms on her surrogate stomach and he follows; his hands cover hers and she can feel it and him despite everything.

They struggle through the lesson containing all that is passing between them. The ride back to the house is customarily quiet. He takes his position on the couch and she in the bedroom only meeting to split the pizza she ordered without asking him. She uploads the photos and the name list she was tasked to retrieve to the ICE office fulfilling her objectives for the day.

He knocks on her door, "Vic, can we talk, please?" His voice is kind. That is what she thinks as she turns the knob. He thanks her and he presses his back against the wall stuffing his hands in his front pockets.

"I've learned that I need to acknowledge my feelings." He offers a slight smile, "and that I need to honor the feelings of others. I haven't done a good job of that."

"Are you drunk?"

He shakes his head, "No, just been going to a therapist the past four months on the weekend. " He pauses and reassesses. "I haven't had the courage to talk with you about the damage we've done."

She pauses, "You're not alone. I go every other week to see my headshrinker."

He looks both sad and comforted as his back relieves the wall of its burden. He sits next to her on the bed and when she doesn't move he keeps his courage.

"Today, with you, I thought if we hadn't ruined it this could be real." His confession startles her and her eyes drop.

He slides his fingers onto her knee, "There's not a moment that passes where I don't think of you." He doesn't attempt to hide the tears that stream down his hard features because they are past the posturing. It's just them now.

Her tears match his and his lips brush away the salty drops of water. She doesn't stop him and when he pulls back his finger takes the place of his lips brushing the wetness from her cheek.

"I love you, Vic." His voice flutters but its firm.

Her head turns away from him and she looks down at their intertwined hands.

"You have a really fucked up way of showing it." She says because that's who she is and she not really past all of it.

"I want to show you the right way." He leans forward and kisses her cheek, "Do you still love me?" He asks before committing any further.

"What makes you think I ever loved you?" She challenges him.

"I know you did, once, and I didn't take care of it. I didn't respect it."

"Why now?"

"I had to forgive myself before I could see it. Before I allowed myself to feel it but I've loved you for a very long time." She hears him sniffle trying to catch his breath and his Adam's apple slides down slowly to its resting place.

His lips hover just above hers and he asks for her forgiveness. His eyelashes close over the pulses of blue. She forgave him long ago.

Their lovemaking is pure and selfless and deserving. When she takes him in, he is consumed by her desire, and the words of love pour out of her flesh.

"Tell me again, Vic."

"I love you, Walt."

The next day when they go through their Lamaze exercises he whispers in her ear, "We would be good at this." Her fingers wrap around his muscled forearms and she leans back into his chest.

"We will be good at a lot of things."

Driving back to Durant, she puts their folded and twined fingers in her lap, and she thinks for the first time that she's going home, going home with him, and all the possibilities that will bring.

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Click through to read part II by rebelxxwaltz, and be sure to leave a review to tell GM2 how you liked her portion of the story. We'll give you a slice of pie! Everybody loves pie.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the conclusion! Warning for some mature content in this chapter... go ahead, act surprised. Thanks to TheGodmother2 for leaving me with such a great set up for a finish to this story!

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 _Rebirth  
Part II by rebelxxwaltz_

 _ **Three days later**_

"I meant what I said, you know."

Vic contemplates briefly, hands warm and soapy as they split the duty of washing up the dishes from the light dinner they've just finished— the first meal they've shared together at Walt's cabin since returning from Cheyenne. She knows him well enough to realize even without meeting the earnest intensity of his focused blue gaze that he's referring to something of great importance to him, but she's determined to make him learn how to communicate.

"What, that you don't like brussels sprouts? Shit, Walt. It's not a big deal. We'll stick to broccoli or green beans next time, as long as you eat enough veggies so you can fucking keep up with me." She slaps the slightly damp back of her hand against his chambray-covered torso.

There's a pleasing solidity to him, strong core balanced and bolstered by a delightfully manly layer of flesh, and he catches her hand as it bounces away from his body. He angles in, dropping the dish towel he's been holding in his left hand and reaching past her to turn off the hot water faucet. Pressing in behind her, both of his large and highly capable hands slide over her waist and come to rest on the flat plane of her stomach.

Somehow Walt's actions manage to be protective and seductive in equal measure, and Vic finds herself relaxing into the embrace as his lips tickle the shell of her ear. "I'm talking about _this_. About us." He presses a kiss between the back of her earlobe and her hairline, gently massaging her abdomen with his strong fingers. "I really think we would be good at it. Don't you?"

It's dizzying, the pull he has on her. It's a power he's always held, but to have him exercise it with such blatant physicality has changed the tone of the game. It's no longer tentative or innocent, it's white hot and primitive and a bit out of control. They've talked about a lot of things and she's pretty sure they're on the same page, but sometimes she thinks he's been reading ahead and is not-so-patiently waiting for her to catch up. Vic remembers what she learned in the Lamaze class, sucking in a long breath with slow deliberation before exhaling a measured response.

"I think we should get used to each other first."

She hadn't intended for it to sound like an invitation. It did, though, and maybe she wasn't sorry. Walt was nothing if not attuned to the power of her suggestions. He swallows her attempt to clarify, half her syllables getting lost in the sudden tangle of lips— "I mean, we mmmph—" as her compliant form molds against his.

For a moment Vic gets distracted with the way Walt's hair curls around his ears and the top of his shirt collar and how it feels between her fingers, this tender observation overriding the increasingly familiar but nonetheless mind-blowing sensation of his erection pressing into the junction of her thighs. These are the thoughts that confirm she is in love, that this is far more than a fleeting wave of lust crashing over them.

Soon they've stumbled halfway across the living room and one of Walt's hands is gliding up under the hem of a dress Vic bought two days ago because it was the same black floral pattern as the floaty faux-maternity frock she'd been wearing when he'd said she was beautiful. She'd blushed when the saleslady, a local resident who had probably never seen the fearsome Deputy Moretti out of uniform, asked her what the occasion was. Wanting to please him in such a way made her feel gooey and stupid like a high school junior shopping for her first prom dress, but the look on his face when he'd met her at the door with her hair curled loose and a pair of delicate but comfortable flats encasing her feet had been so totally worth it.

As hungry as they'd been for each other since the first time, it was almost a shock that they'd made it through dinner… seemed they'd been hungry in that sense, too.

Vic's fingers are busy stroking and unfastening as Walt wedges her against the back of the leather armchair and brushes his thumb over the damp scrap of lace which covers the apex where all her pleasures converge. She whimpers, squirming her hips in encouragement as his belt buckle snicks open at her command. He groans, dipping two long fingers behind the border of her panties to test the slick and scorching waters.

Heavy breathing betrays their urgency as he reluctantly ceases his explorations and pulls her toward the bedroom. He brushes away some hair that has fallen into her face during the sensual scramble. Those blue eyes glow, picking her out like searchlights, and the fact that he can still be shy enough to need permission for this turns her on just that much more.

Walt's lips are slightly parted, one husky word escaping. "Yeah?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Vic pushes the jeans and underwear off his narrow hips as they cross the threshold to the bedroom. He loses his footing for a brief moment, and she relishes even that minute indication that she still maintains her share of the control.

Without hesitation he lifts the dress up and over her head, kissing the soft skin of her right forearm near the elbow as she raises her limbs in a symbolic surrender. They stand toe to toe, with him now gloriously naked and her clad only in lacy black underthings intended more for visual stimulation than any practical use. Walt strokes a hand across her shoulder and over one lace-clad breast, winding it down to the small of her back and lower as his lips graze the edge of her eyebrow.

"Maybe not, but part of me still needs to hear you say it."

She swallows heavily, reaching out and resting her hands on either side of his sturdy midsection. Her lips trail along his stubbled jawline from his chin to the shell of his ear. It's a yielding whisper, words that are only for him and will never be for anyone else again.

"I want you…"

It's enough. There's no need to bother sliding beneath the neatly arranged covers because they'll just get in the way of the twisting, heaving, devouring dance of limbs and bodies that has commenced in all due haste. Vic's bra is gone and it's a distinct possibility that her panties have been unmercifully shredded somewhere in the excitement. There's a struggle for dominance, but they both know there's no loser— it's not like the days with Sean where letting him be on top felt like one more brand of pretending.

When Walt pins Vic down and pushes himself into her it's an explosion of sensations. He's big and hard and she can tell from the tension in the muscles of his back beneath her hands that he's holding some of his accumulated passion back because he doesn't want to hurt her. She moans and hitches her thighs a bit higher on his torso, pressing her calves firmly against his flanks in encouragement. He pulls back and then grinds up and deeper in, propping his forearms on either side of her head to leverage his weight. The look in his eyes burns right through her, and she feels penetrated on so many levels.

She knows they both want exactly the same thing, so she gives him the go ahead in terms that are unmistakable. "Walt— fuck me."

From there it's hard and fast, but even through the fury of thrusts and grasping hands she can feel the long dormant tenderness swelling between them. It's in the way he traces his thumb over her lips, and the words he gasps out as her curious fingers travel the unexplored country of his skin. He's always been a bundle of incongruities in her eyes— tough but kind, caring but frustratingly distant, honorable but sometimes ruthless. It's no different here in this new arena, as he slams into her repeatedly like a man possessed while uttering professions of old-fashioned courtly love.

Vic isn't afraid to vocalize the raptures Walt has brought her to, releasing a stream of high-pitched wails and curses in an erotic approximation of primal scream therapy. Making love with Walt has been more soothing to her spirit than weeks of sessions with the county-approved shrink, a fact that takes on a sort of round irony when Vic absently realizes it is still a county official currently propelling her to brain-blanking orgasm.

It's simultaneous and sustained, and she can tell it's just as good for him from the way he twitches and pulses inside of her. Walt releases a low groan as Vic's internal spasms continue, and she gasps for breath in tempo with the diminishing orbit of his hips.

No thoughts enter Vic's mind for the next several minutes, apart from an abstract stardust cloud of words like 'Yes' and 'Home.' Her skin tingles all the way down to the tips of her toes, eyelashes fluttering as Walt rolls off and gathers her against him in one smooth motion. She sighs, craning up for a long, melting kiss before rubbing her nose against his and settling into the cradle of his arms. Walt's fingers stroke along her spine, and she can hear the wheels of thought spinning in his euphoria-coated brain.

Typically, when his words make it out into the air, they are few. "Marry me."

"What?" Her eyes shoot open again, wide as they adjust to the oddly warm darkness of the room.

She knows that he knows that she heard him quite clearly. "We can apply for the license tomorrow, make it official on the weekend. Maybe even take a few days off."

The last part almost sounds like a question, but Vic doesn't know if it's because Walt isn't sure how she'll respond or if he's simply wondering how they can work the duty roster if the two of them split town for their _honeymoon_.

"It's too soon. Isn't it?" She doesn't sound convincing even to her own ears. After all, how long have they been in love with each other and done nothing about it? Isn't it about time?

Walt's thoughts seem to run along the same lines. "I bought you a ring over a year ago, without knowing what I was doing." He shifts, leaning up on one elbow so that they are facing each other in the half-light. "You were still married, but I saw it in an antique shop up in Ranchester while I was on a case. I bought it without a second thought, and it's been stashed in my sock drawer ever since. I never admitted to myself that it was meant for you until after Barlow."

"And things kind of went to shit after that…" They'd both been guilty, but Walt's words dispel Vic's last nagging fear that his feelings for her have not survived all of those trials fully in tact.

He reaches for one of her hands, drawing it against his chest. "I'll never fuck up like that again. I love you too much."

She's had the same thought regarding him, and hearing it out loud seals the deal. "Okay then." She really was sounding more like him every day.

Pausing, Walt tilts his head. "Okay? Like… as in yes?"

A smile stretches onto her face, brilliant and without a trace of tears. "Yes."

As she takes in Walt's slow answering grin, followed by the tantalizing sight of his naked form digging for the forgotten ring box in his top dresser drawer, Vic considers the concept of rebirth. A phoenix rising from the ashes, love nearly lost and found again. Another dawn was waiting, and she found herself at peace with the knowledge that they would face all the days ahead together.

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And there you have it! We hope this proved to be an enjoyable read, and would love to hear your feedback. We may collaborate again in the near future, especially if readers like the results! :D


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